The Child in a Warrior's Armor
by Kishi Seta
Summary: (may include romance) It all starts with a PUZZLING writing of frustrations. The writer of this world then goes ona quest where no man of ME has gone before: TO THE LANDS BEYOND THE SEA. (warning: person falls to ME story)
1. WRITING THE GRIEF

A seclusion in the void, my heart's final recoil. Pure emotion eluding the flame that supposedly consumes it and the void is no longer a void. My heart's rest lost in loneliness – not sadness. A heart that gropes for a ledge to hang on to, only to find them cracked and ready to fall. A heart that searches for seclusion and company among ghosts and invisible men. A heart that cries without tears nor sound. A heart that's dying but deemed to be alive and well. The lost and confused heart that is me.

_Already my walls are failing, my defenses__ crushed leaving only the foundations…memories of what they were. Useless against the onslaught. Time may well be against me as I find none to rebuild it. My enemies but fictitious fiends; none to be seen at the torn down walls, yet real enough to leave behind wounds and scars at their continuous slaughter. Laughter echoes through them, resounding in thought; assured of victory. Yet most do not know of this occurrence. Blind of the desolation they cause. No hate, no satisfaction, just…life pulling their strings._

_At times I wish the wounds they cause are seen and touched. A slow death in heart and mind is more torturous than that of the body. Reservoirs begging release but held back and contained near breaking point. No one notices, no one pays it any mind. I remain silent. One too many chances have been given out and I cannot take it any longer. The pain of other hearts contained in my stronghold, shutting and locking them with my own retreat. Their own strongholds already hold too much without knowing that mine has been holding to its limits for the longest time. Expansion is not an option for there is no space left within the void. It is consumed, and within it, pure emotion that threatens to tear apart the soul and mind. The heart continues to die._

The letter falls from the writer's hand. Tears threatening to overwhelm. Writing in riddles meant that understanding it would not be easy. No one would know if it were real or just a lyric prose. No one would know what it was intended for and she wanted to keep it that way. Keeping all those tears at bay was difficult but manageable. 'Crying is for the weak.' The thought that repeated itself countless of times in that stubborn mind. The writer can never admit denial. Not even the denials occurring in that confused mind.

'No one can understand that deep inside this armor, the warrior is but a child.' Slowly, heavy lidded eyes dropped and peaceful sleep came. 'One friend…just one real…'


	2. THE MADWOMAN

A soft breeze touched Korin from where she lay. A stubborn grunt escaped her lips as she refused to be wakened tossing her head to one side. Sharp pain shot through her cheek at the movement forcing her eyes to open. What she saw puzzled her. She knew that before she had closed her eyes, she was still in her room. However, all signs pointed that she was not there anymore. The air she breathed was undefiled and the sun that pressed on her gave pleasant warmth. Trees, low houses and people in strange clothing surrounded her. She rubbed her eyes thinking that it was all an illusion for it could never be a dream if she hurt.

All the same, the surroundings never changed. She looked at the rough stone bricks that were used to make thick walls. That was what scratched her face, gladly lifting it up to regard everyone. She saw people whisper among themselves and she laughed. 'Such hallucinations I'm having. I want to escape and here I am…hallucinating.' She touched her cheek and winced at the pain. She looked at her hand and saw it was bleeding, although slightly.

Everyone in the circle of people stood there silently studying her and trying to find what they can about her as if looking were enough. Everyone kept their counsels to one another until a man spoke up. "What are you and what be your business in Gondor outlander?"

Korin looked at the man. His heavy built was something she could not ignore and seeing that his clothes differed from the rest, as they were embroidered with gold, she felt compelled to answer. There was, however, no real answer for her. She thought she had gone mad. "I don't know…" she laughed to herself while she produced a handkerchief from her pocket to dab her bleeding cheek. "I must be a mad woman to be seeing you all and seeing this."

She heard snatches of the people's whispers such as "danger!" and "mad woman!" and shook her head. All the emotions that she kept had finally caught up with her and affected her mind. It was to be expected, anyway, and she should not be surprised. Her head shot up to the man who spoke.

"If you would follow me, lady," she approached her, still hesitant, "Your…curious arrival to our land must be made known to our King."

Korin cocked her head to one side trying to think rationally. If she was mad, how come she still believed who she was? Why would she insist on being a mad woman if she were? No one who was really mad would admit that, would they? However, what was happening to her could be solid proof that she was mad. You could not hurt and feel everything in a dream. She slowly stood up without a word and approached the man. Immediately, his hand went to his sword hilt perfectly wary of her. Immediately, the crowds parted, revealing a set of guards behind the crowd. She followed the man toward the guards and saw that the village was everything but modern. It would be a city by medieval standards in the fairs she had gone to, but somehow, it did not look like a medieval fair to her.

She walked in silence following the men until the man who had approached her spoke. "My lady, do you know your name?"

"Korin Suyama," she shrugged, "at last that much I can tell. Tell, me, am I going to a mental institute?"

The man shook his head, "Forgive me, I know not of what you speak."

"Please!" she laughed, "You're speaking as if you're a poet. Talk normally. I can understand that. Now, answer my question, man."

The man only looked back at her agape. "Your tongue is queer, Lady. I do not mean to offend, mind, but I shall answer from what I can understand. Your praise is appreciated, but let me assure you, Lady Korin, I am no poet. As for what you call a _mental institute_," he twisted his mouth at the words, "I still have no knowledge of what that might be."

She refused to believe him at first but as she walked, she saw the land stretch out of sight as far as the eye could see and people regard her with curious, open looks. She felt uneasy and felt that she was indeed out of place. She shuddered as she thought herself lost in a strange place. 'No!' she scolded herself, 'Things like those only happen in movies and books. Just fantasies. Get a grip on yourself!'

Soon, they were within the doors of the castle and were led into a massive hall with the statues of kings and beautiful tapestries lining every corner. The hall led to a massive wooden door. The man told her to stop as he stuck his head in to make their presence known. They were bidden to come in and she saw a man on a dais in his prime years dominate the room with his presence and majesty, yet looking as if the weight of the world has been put upon his shoulders.

The man knelt and but she did not follow. Nothing could convince her that what she was going through was real.

"Insolent fool!" the man beside the one at the dais bellowed. "Pay your respects to the King of Gondor."

"King?" Korin asked bending her head to one side. "Is he really a king?"

"The son of Aragorn is no less than his father - " but before he could continue the man on the dais raised his arm and quieted him.

"Rise, all of you." Turning to Korin, he said, "You are a queer one, Lady Korin Suyama. Have you no king in your land?"

"In England, we have a prime minister and a queen and in Japan we have an emperor and a prime minister too, if that's what you mean."

"I am afraid we know not of the lands you speak of." The king shook his head. "Are you of the East?"

"Both the East and West," she said dismissively. "Multicultural backgrounds suck. You don't know what to follow. Do you have a telly?"

"A what?" the king asked.

"A phone…" she said sarcastically. When he didn't answer, she sighed adding, "you know, the thing that rings so that you can talk to someone else?"

The king shook his head. "Lady Korin, I bid you, to speak in a manner we can all understand. We have much to discuss. It seems that you have been sent here by magic. The city speaks of a blinding light and the appearance of a curious woman. Have you come to our aid?"

"Whoa, whoa! Hold up!" she waved her hand frantically in front of her. "You mean to say that those people saw light and after that, they saw me?"

Silence stretched a while before the king answered. "Light came before you, yes. If that is what you want to make clear."

"This is all real!" she screamed frantically.

"I am afraid so," the king nodded.

Blood drained from Korin's face as she realized that she is no longer in England. She was in a strange land and knew no one from there.


End file.
